Takumi shook off Yukihira Sōma's sudden appearance and turned back to his cooking. He would have to focus on distributing his two-hundred meals, not on the upperclassman that seemed to gravitate towards him. He goes back to focusing on the dishes in front of him.

Two members of Tōtsuki's waitstaff wandered over, and though they were giggling to each other and fawning over how swiftly he cooked, he could see the sharp gazes that they hid behind empty praise.

"A frittata! I've heard of this before!" one gushed, leaning forward. "It's scrambled egg and cheese, baked in the oven, right? I heard they're popular in Europe."

"Oh, yes!" the other said. "They usually have other things though… this one seems a bit plain, apart from the brown sauce on it."

Takumi could feel the moment he went from chef to restaurateur, when the winning smile on his face, well-used from years in the trattoria's dining room, was shrugged on like a worn jacket. "I agree, if you were to eat that frittata as is, it wouldn't be the most interesting thing in the world," he said as cheekily as he could. "But! The secret of the frittata is what's underneath it!"

"Underneath it?" The edge that Takumi had seen crept out further.

He answered the woman with a wider grin, one just as pointed as her look so she would know it was a challenge. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

The woman smiled at him in acknowledgment of their game and took the plate. She picked up one of his forks and cut into the frittata with it, her eyes lighting up with delight as she did so.

"Ah! The frittata is on top of a chopped salad!" Her joy and surprise were less acted than the rest of her performance, and she happily took a bite of it.

Her coworker perked up at her discovery and took a portion of frittata herself. "How interesting! I've never considered a frittata with fresh vegetables before— it's like having the filling outside of the dish."

"What a light dish!" the first woman said. "Frittata can be heavy, depending on the ingredients used, but by keeping it to the bare minimum you have a wonderful interplay of warm egg and fresh, crisp vegetables. What a wonderfully healthy breakfast!"

"Please, enjoy my insalata frittata," Takumi said with a final shallow bow, their performance done. Other customers had heard the woman's call and were beginning to walk over curiously, picking up plates of Takumi's offering. It was a steady stream, and he saw the two women quietly melt back into the crowd after finishing their plates and placing them to the side for attendants to count. He glanced around the room. Other employees were doing the same for some of the students; while they seemed to only approach stations that intrigued them, they were interacting with the students with just enough energy to draw in a curious crowd, kick-starting a rush to their buffets. He wondered if Gin had instructed them to do so before getting back to work.

After a while, Takumi realized that Erina was drawing in just as big of a crowd as Takumi was, though their customer bases seemed to have surprisingly little overlap. When he had a moment, he looked to see what she was offering. It seemed to be some sort of breakfast sandwich drenched in a creamy sauce, requiring patrons to cut into it with a fork or knife to marvel at her creation. While Takumi had decided that he would reach the dish goal by presenting an item that a guest might come back to eat again, Erina had settled on a concept that was so tantalizing that everyone would want to try it.

"Yo, Aldini-san!"

Takumi froze before turning to see who was at his station, though not before noticing Erina jump in a similar way. Sōma was leaning against a counter, poking at one of the plates idly with a fork.

"H-hi, Yukihira-senpai," Takumi stuttered out. He quickly regained whatever composure he could muster. "Sorry, I was a bit distracted. Did you need something?"

Sōma shrugged, grabbing a plate. He didn't seem shocked to see the salad that hid underneath the portion of frittata, happily smashing the egg into chunks that he could spear alongside the roughly cut cucumbers and tomatoes. "Just wanted to pick your brain a bit over this. Eggs on salad? What gave you that idea, huh?"

Takumi found himself laughing slightly. "Would you believe it was a mistake, once?"

"Oh?" Something shifted in Sōma's expression. "Do tell."

"There's not much to tell," Takumi said. "My parents used to make this egg-and-zucchini dish for us to eat before the restaurant opened for lunch. When I was around nine, it was one of my favorite foods. I wanted to exchange the favor one day, but I grabbed the wrong vegetable."

Sōma laughed loudly at that image and fished out a cucumber from his half-eaten salad. "And now you've done it on purpose?"

"It tasted fine warm, but it's much better fresh. Take my word on it."

"You don't have to convince me; I'm already eating it." Sōma popped the last bit of the insalata frittata in his mouth and placed the plate to the side. "How's Camp treating you? Any hardass alumni try to kick you out yet?"

Takumi furrowed his brow. "I hope not," he said, cracking another six eggs into a bowl for his next frittata. "I've been able to complete their challenges on the first try, so far."

"Now that's bragging rights," Sōma said, pointing his fork at Takumi lazily. "Keep that up, Aldini, and I'll keep checking in on you."

"Saiba-nii?"

Takumi and Sōma both turned towards the speaker, Takumi with his chopsticks in hand to whisk his eggs and Sōma with the fork in his mouth. Erina was staring at the two of them, clearly taken off-guard by Sōma's sudden appearance.

"Oh. Yo, Erina-chan," he said casually.

Takumi had never seen her turn so red before.

"Wh-why are you here?!" she nearly shrieked.

"Didn't you hear Dojima-senpai?" Sōma asked, still leaning on Takumi's counter. "Elite Ten third-years all came out to see what you first-years are capable of."

Something twisted in Erina's expression. "Wait, all of you came out?"

"Oh, Erinaaaaa!"

Panic flashed in Erina's expression before it melted into a resigned annoyance. Two students were approaching their stations: a white-haired girl with delicate features that were unmistakably similar to Erina's and a looming dark-haired boy who glared at anyone who got within six inches of him.

"These sandwiches are so adorable!" she squealed, reaching out to pick up a still-steaming plate. "Look at this, Ryō-kun, isn't this so cute? She's using roe and everything!"

Erina tensed. Takumi stared in disbelief at the unfamiliar girl. He'd overheard Erina's customers excitedly expound on her clever use of karasumi in her dish, on her knowledgeable expansion of the theme to elevate her dish. He couldn't begrudge her success with that; Takumi wouldn't have thought to use a non-bird egg for this challenge, especially after deciding to abide by Momo's advice and run with the first concept he came up with. He'd even filed away a mental note to ask Zenji about more esoteric ingredients that he should expand his repertoire with, and everyone who left Erina's station had raved over how complex her flavor profiles were.

This girl had easily dissected what Erina made without having to cut into the eggs benedict at all. She had known exactly what Erina would have done to elevate it and claim it as her own— and pointed that out almost mockingly.

The boy at her side leaned over and grunted at the sandwich. "Probably tastes fine," he muttered.

The girl giggled. "Oh, I'm sure it does," she said. "If our lovely Erina-hime-chan decided that she can serve it, surely it's because she deemed it adequate enough. She'll hit her target number easily." The girl's pink eyes were narrowed by her smile as she put the plate back down. Her lips twitched, and suddenly her expression seemed as nasty as her intent. "How boring. My palate would curl up and go to sleep if I ate this."

Takumi saw Erina's hand clench into a fist, even as she handed out more of her dish to guests who happily swept them away.

"And who's this, Sōma?" the girl asked, brushing Erina's unhappiness off with a practiced air. She squinted at Takumi before her face lit up, and all sense of derision was swept away. "Wait, I know you! You're the boy that Tadokoro-chan brought up in our first meeting! The transfer student, right? I recognize you from your photo."

Takumi swallowed past the dryness in his throat. "Yes. Aldini Takumi. Pleased to meet you."

She laughed. It sounded charming and adorable and completely manufactured. "Oh, how absolutely delightful!" She held a hand out for him to shake. "Nakiri Alice, 90th Generation, current Fifth Seat, Silver Faction, blah, blah, blah. Just call me Nakiri-senpai."

Takumi shook her hand somewhat robotically.

"And this is Kurokiba Ryō-kun!" Alice reached up and poked Ryō in the face. He didn't respond. "You can call him Ryō-kun, okay?"

"No, you can't," Ryō said with a deadpan.

Alice whipped around, air puffing up her cheek. "If I say he can, he can!" she said with a pout.

"I don't want him to," Ryō said with an air of finality.

"But it would be so cute if everyone started calling you Ryō-kun, Ryō-kun!" She stamped a foot. "It would be so charming!"

"I-It's okay, I can just call him Kurokiba-senpai—" Takumi tried to say.

"Let them bicker," Sōma said, watching his classmates with an amused set to his eyes. "You don't want to get involved in it."

"Hmph!" Alice turned, eyes closed as if it would help her ignore Ryō. "What did you make anyway, Aldini-kun?" She stared down at his offered dishes, which were still being taken by happy consumers at some speed. "It looks kind of boring, I'm going to be honest."

That ticked something in Takumi. "Why don't you try it then, Nakiri-senpai?" he challenged, brandishing his wedge of parmesan over a plate. "If you give it just one bite, I bet you'll be leaving with seconds."

Alice practically cackled with delight at his words. "Cheeky boy," she said, taking a plate and a fork. She poked at the frittata, making an appreciative noise as she found the salad tucked beneath it. Similarly to Sōma, she speared the corner of it and jabbed at some of the salad contents before putting the whole bite into her mouth. "Mmph! Is there paprika in the frittata?"

Takumi was somewhat taken aback by the question. "There is. You're the first person to have noticed that."

"I'm probably just the first to point it out," she corrected, happily lining up another bite. "It's very clever; rather than the egg, you're letting the capsanthin and capsorubin of the red bell peppers shine as the center of the dish, which in turn illuminates your lovely frittata. It's a bit plain, of course, but it's hearty and delightful because of that, and the lightness of the dish makes you want to keep eating it, which I'm sure was the point." Her gaze slipped back into that calculating gleam that she'd worn while examining Erina's dish.

Takumi blinked. "Capsa-what?"

Alice immediately pouted. "Saiba-kun, this is why we have to implement gastronomy courses for the children!" she said, gesturing at Takumi emphatically (Ryō neatly pulled the rest of the insalata frittata out of her grip beforehand and was curiously nibbling at it). "He doesn't even know where his success is coming from!"

"No one goes to the first-year lectures. You know that, Alice," Sōma said, scratching the back of his head.

"Still!" She huffed. "Not recognizing capsanthin and capsorubin… they're not even that hard, they're only in red bell peppers—"

"And that's our cue," Ryō said, stacking his empty plate on top of Sōma's. "Aldini-san, do you have anyone you recommend for someone interested in seafood?"

"Ryō-kun! You ate the whole thing without asking me?!" Alice snatched up another plate, which Takumi couldn't help but feel a bit smug over. "How dare you! I thought we were a team!"

"We are, Alice-ojou," he said dully.

"Um— Hall C, I think," Takumi said. "My friend, Saitō Sōmei-san. He works with sushi, usually; I don't know what his plan for this morning was, but it probably has to do with fish if he had a choice."

Ryō grunted in response, turning back to the entrance of the hall without seeing if Alice was following. She stuck her tongue out at his retreating back, winked at Sōma, waved at Erina with a finger waggle, and vanished after him.

"Huh." Takumi said as they left.

"That's the Fifth and Sixth Seat for you," Sōma said. He sighed, standing up straight. "Well, I think I spent too long over here thanks to all of that; there're more stations for me to check out, after all. You're doing well, Aldini-san, keep it up."

"Wait, Saiba-nii!"

Sōma paused, turning over his shoulder to look at Erina. She was standing in the middle of her station, holding one of her eggs benedict.

"What's up, Erina-chan?" he asked casually.

"Do you— I mean—" Takumi had never seen her so uncertain. After a second of fidgeting, Erina just bit her lip and thrust the plate in her hands towards Sōma. "Will you try my dish?"

Sōma gave her a surprisingly and horribly soft smile. "Why would I?" he asked gently, though his tone did nothing to blunt the blow of his words. "Karasumi on an English muffin, with no other alteration to the recipe? Anyone can do that, Erina-chan."

Takumi winced. Erina decidedly did not deflate, though she rather robotically put down the dish she offered and allowed someone else to pick it up.

"And Aldini-san?" Her voice was cold, sharp in the same way as Sōma's words were without any of his careful cushioning. "He put a frittata on some chopped vegetables. Anyone could do that."

"I suppose," Sōma said with a shrug. "I wouldn't have thought to combine the two, personally. Would you?"

Erina was silent.

"Good luck, both of you." Sōma broke out into an excited smile again, as though the previous conversation hadn't even happened. "After you hit your minimum, you'll be able to walk around and see what everyone else has cooked. It might be tempting to keep adding to your dish count, but it's just as valuable to see where your peers are at—"

"No one in this room can touch me," Erina spat out, fiercely whisking Hollandaise at her stove. "Watch me set the record for this challenge."

Momo's words echoed back to Takumi: "There's nothing to gain from trying to come off as too impressive in the next task. You have to promise to focus on the point of the task, not on your ego."

"Maybe you will." Sōma shrugged. "I barely completed it, so there's no competition from me."

Takumi blinked. "What? Really?"

"Yeah, I made a stupid choice and had to run with it. It's a miracle I made it through, really." He checked his watch. "I do really have to go and check at least a few of the other booths. Seeya both."

There was a long period in which Takumi and Erina refused to acknowledge each other, simply speaking with guests who took their food and stacking empty plates to one side.

"You're not that special."

Takumi blinked before turning to Erina. She was pointedly refusing to look at him, opting instead to focus on her cooking. "I'm sorry?"

"You're not," she seethed, throwing a poached egg onto a prepared English muffin with a bit more force than necessary. "You're just a silly excuse of a diner brat who somehow hasn't been expelled yet. You won't be able to graduate from Tōtsuki. You won't even survive this year, I bet."

The flicker of anger sparked in Takumi's chest. "Hey, that's a bit uncalled for—"

"You have no idea what ingredients would elevate the sort of street fare you grew up with to the level that's expected of gourmets," she continued as though he hadn't said anything. "You didn't spend your childhood honing your palate until you could tell the exact temperature that brisket was prepared at by mouthfeel alone. You weren't fed by members of the most exclusive group of chefs around the world. You haven't had to travel around the world to witness harvests of the most precious produce items just to make adults feel better about their purchases. So, why then—" Her voice had hitched slightly, much to Takumi's horror— "why did my stupid big brother and his stupid Elite Ten colleagues eat your dish and not mine?!"

The quick response on the tip of Takumi's tongue died at her final words.

Erina didn't seem like she wanted an answer. She just glowered at the final few portions of frittata he had laid out before turning back to her station.

"Aldini Takumi, two-hundred servings complete!" Someone announced. "You are free to continue cooking or explore the buffet for yourself; please let one of the staff know if you wish to walk around."

He gave Erina one last look before waving an attendant over and asking for a few minutes to walk around his hall. She quickly took charge of the station, not cooking any more of his dish but preparing what he had left for others to take in his absence.

Takumi walked over to Ryōko's station first. She waved him over and happily served him a bowl of her breakfast offering, a simple congee with pork and something black sliced over the top. In between juggling a crowd of mostly older guests, Ryōko explained to him that the strange gelatinous thing in his bowl was slices of century egg, something he'd heard of but never tasted. It was almost cheesy, and Ryōko laughed as he visibly recoiled from his first bite.

"It gets better, I promise," she said.

"I'm sure it does," he muttered, spooning more congee in his mouth to counterbalance the pungent flavor. "Just give me a second."

Momo's station offered something a bit more mundane. She seemed surprised to actually see Takumi there but just silently handed him a plate with a strange oval-shaped pastry on it. When he just stared at it curiously, she rolled her eyes and told him to cut it in half if he was really going to be so stupid. When he did, a light egg custard oozed all over his hands and through the delicate buttery layers of pastry. A light frost of sugar coated the whole thing, and as Takumi looked at the light pastry and yellow custard, he realized that Momo had been able to visually mimic the appearance of a soft-boiled egg with a sweet, light bread designed to make you go back for seconds or thirds, just like his meal. His frittata had been meant to appeal to those who sought out a savory breakfast, but Momo had carefully engineered her offering to appeal to the children that were running around, snagging more and more custard-filled breads before their parents noticed. Technically speaking, it was a strategy that could only have worked for someone who was aware of the audience they were serving, but it was still an extremely successful one.

"Are you going to look at the other students after you served your first two-hundred?" Takumi asked her.

Momo just shrugged, pulling another set of pastries out of the oven. "Momo already did. Ibusaki-nyan always has weird ideas. There was another student who managed to crystallize her egg white in a way that Momo would have thought scientifically impossible. Otherwise? Nothing relevant enough to Momo to care about."

"That's fair," Takumi allowed. "You didn't try going to another hall?"

"No point," Momo said with a snort. "After this is all over, Rindō-nee will have a full list of everything that was prepared for this challenge and run through the successes and failures of every single one. It'll take hours and hours and be completely unnecessary for Momo's practice."

Takumi balked at that. "Aren't there like eight-hundred students left at least? She's going to try and eat that many dishes before the event ends?"

"Momo wouldn't be surprised if she has an agreement with Tōtsuki Resort to save her leftovers for anyone that she didn't get to," the girl said with a sigh. "Are you done, Aldi-nyan? Momo has to focus on making more pastry eggs."

Takumi took that as the dismissal it was and headed further into the hall. Miyoko just narrowed her eyes at him but tried not to look too smug when he picked up her omelet and gave it a try. Shun just nodded when he stopped by to pick up one of his deviled eggs; he seemed to be fairly close to finishing the task and said he'd stop by Takumi's own station when he could. Takumi had wondered why he wasn't quite done, but one bite of the egg told him that Shun had opted for flavors that appealed to more particular palates and challenged those eating it, which probably wasn't the most effective strategy but spoke to his stubborn refusal to divert from his preferred cooking style.

He was back at his station before too long, moving the 'TEMPORARILY AWAY' sign off of his counter and setting about preparing a few more frittatas before time ran out for the challenge. Erina had clearly continued to serve guests at a brisk pace, even as the morning slowed; an attendant announced that she had somehow served four-hundred people as Takumi spooned out portions of salad into more serving dishes.

"I don't care what arrangement you and Saiba-nii have," Erina said as Takumi settled back in.

"Who says we have an arrangement at all?" Takumi glared at her over a fresh bowl of salad.

"Please, I'm not stupid," she scoffed. "There's no reason for him to have cared enough to find you in this event otherwise. He came to check up on you for whatever reason, and that means he's interested in you. If I was pettier, I'd care more."

Takumi didn't voice how petty she seemed to be acting now.

"That doesn't make you better than me," Erina continued, crushing karasumi in a mortar with far more vigor than was strictly necessary. "You're not noteworthy enough to be a rival, and you're not interesting enough to be an ally. I don't care that Saiba-nii is giving you so much attention, even if you're just another diner brat."

"Have you considered," he snapped, "that obsessing over it like you're doing right now doesn't exactly convince me that you don't care?"

Erina whipped around with a glare. "How dare you speak to me that way?"

"How dare you?!" Takumi shot back, slamming down five more servings of his frittata. The guests who had crowded around their stations awkwardly snatched up the food and fled from their argument. "I don't care who your parents are or what foods you've eaten or who babysat for you when you were a toddler. None of that excuses you to act like the biggest, most spoiled brat I've ever met. So the third-years didn't eat your food! Big deal! At the end of the day, they're just one or two servings from the two-hundred that we're supposed to serve!"

"You wouldn't understand," Erina spat. "Someone of your ilk could never understand."

"You're right. I don't, and I don't want to. I'd never want anyone to believe that I care more about certain guests than others." Takumi furiously divvied up the latest frittata to come out of his stove. "If I ever do, I'm putting my knife down and never cooking again!"

Erina didn't seem to have a response to that. Takumi busied himself by swirling his vinaigrette over more completed servings and put them out to be claimed.

The event wrapped up as guests began to slowly filter out of the halls. Erina wiped her hands onto a dish towel and stormed off as soon as time was called. Momo left without another word, Bucchi held close to her, and Miyoko walked out shortly afterwards. Students who hadn't been able to serve the required number were already beginning to cry out in dismay; Takumi wondered when he'd gotten so good at ignoring their upset words. Shun seemed equally unaffected, and he just put his spare servings to the side and walked to the center of the hall, waving Takumi over.

"How long do we have until our workshop this afternoon?" Ryōko asked as she walked up, successful in her own right. She had her remaining century eggs tucked under one arm.

"Maybe forty minutes?" Shun answered. "Enough time to get back to our rooms and wash up."

"Why are you holding onto those?" Takumi asked.

Ryōko shrugged. "I had to ask for them specially; seemed like a waste if the Resort had to throw them all away. I'll come up with something else to use them for when we get back to the dorm."

"How optimistic," Shun muttered.

"Ibusaki-san, you were the one to say that there was no way you wouldn't get through this Camp," Takumi pointed out.

"That's not optimism. That's just being realistic."

Ryōko and Takumi exchanged tired, resigned looks behind his back.

"I'm on bus four for this workshop," she said, deftly changing topics. "Are either of you?"

"Bus two," Shun said, shaking his head.

"I'm on one," Takumi said. "I think I was on bus four last time, so you might have to do Chef Mizuhara's task."

Ryōko wrinkled her nose, but Shun was the one to respond to that. "You had Chef Mizuhara? What did you think?"

"Her task was a lot less complicated than I thought it would be but still one of the trickier ones I've heard of," Takumi said.

"Not that," Shun said irritably. "The chef. Did she seem interested in you?"

"I don't know…?" Takumi said slowly. "We spoke afterwards. She had some good advice."

Shun sighed. "Well, we'll see when it all wraps up, I suppose," he muttered. Before Takumi could ask him what he meant, they'd arrived at the parking lot and were split up into groups by bus. Takumi saw Ikumi break off and head towards his group, and when he waved to her she deftly cut in front of a good ten people to join him.

"How was your buffet?" she asked, ignoring the mutters behind her.

"Went well enough. I walked around a bit after serving my first two-hundred, but I still managed to almost get to three-hundred after I got back. You?"

Ikumi smirked smugly. "Had a line the entire time, gave out something like three-hundred-and-eighty servings before I ran out. Apologies to the rest of Hall D."

"Impressive. Did any of the upperclassmen find you?"

"Who, the Elites?" Ikumi shrugged. "Kobayashi-senpai grabbed something but she was in too much of a rush to chat. I think I saw Tsukasa-senpai also wandering around, but he didn't eat anything. He spent the whole time muttering to himself and looking stressed. Why, did you?"

Takumi rubbed his eyes. "Yukihira-senpai came over, along with Nakiri-senpai and Kurokiba-senpai. I had no idea how to speak to them."

Ikumi winced sympathetically. "Yeah, Nakiri-senpai is a weird one," she said.

"My station was right next to Nakiri-san's, as well," Takumi continued. "They had a whole familial argument or something while I was just standing there. It was absolutely bizarre."

"You were working next to Erina-san, and you got mobbed by those three? My condolences. Nakiri-senpai is her older cousin— I think she's from Denmark? She's already a major player in the field of molecular gastronomy."

Takumi blinked. "As in, using scientific instruments in cooking?"

"Yep." Ikumi kicked the seat in front of them. "Apparently she's made quite a few breakthroughs as a Tōtsuki student. Couldn't tell you what for, though. Kurokiba-senpai is sort of her aide; he used to be, officially, but I think they had a Shokugeki over it last year and he won. He still follows her around though, so maybe that was a symbolic thing?"

"You've lost me."

"I've lost myself," Ikumi admitted. "Anyhow, all you need to know is that Nakiri-senpai takes a weird amount of joy out of winding Erina-san up, and no one else in their year steps in or intervenes. I don't think most of them care, and the ones that do seem to think it's harmless enough. Do you remember what they said about her food?"

"They didn't try it," Takumi said. "Nakiri-senpai examined it, said she knew the complete flavor profile without touching it, and put it back down. Yukihira-senpai said just about the same thing."

Ikumi sighed. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Nakiri-senpai is Eizan-senpai's mentor, so I've heard a lot about her from him. And Kurokiba-senpai?"

Takumi snorted. "I think Kurokiba-senpai said ten words to me, in total."

"That also sounds about right. You should see if you can catch one of his Shokugeki; they're crazy to watch."

The bus pulled up to a building soon afterward, and the students piled out and into a classroom. Takumi looked around and noticed that there seemed to be half as many cooking stations as people, so he and Ikumi shrugged to each other before claiming one together.

"Who's leading this one?" Takumi asked her.

"Not sure," she said, drumming her fingers on the counter. "I got Chefs Sekimori and Gotōda already though, so neither of them…"

"I've been to Chefs Inui and Mizuhara," Takumi muttered. "So, between the rest…"

Crisp footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by the appearance of a pink-haired man with glasses. He glanced around the room before smartly closing the door behind him.

Takumi felt Ikumi tense beside her. He just sighed to himself. To be fair, he knew he was going to sit for Shinomiya Kojirō's task at some point, though he did hope it would be later in the week.

"Good afternoon, students," Kojirō said, standing stiffly at the front of the room. "In front of you is a card with a recette of mine. Your task is to prepare the meal described on it to perfection. You have one try, and you will be working with the person you are seated with. And you will be doing it completely silently; any words from any of you will result in your expulsion."

Takumi blinked as some of his classmates began to shout in panic, and though he didn't say anything himself, he could completely understand. What?!

"In a restaurant kitchen," Kojirō continued, ignoring the din, "every chef knows exactly what they're preparing. The only communication they give is to announce that they are finished with one step or another. There is an implicit understanding between the members of a kitchen of which step of which dish they will prepare. While we cannot truthfully mimic this aspect of professional life," and his lip curled as though blaming them for that, "we will do our best. Read the recette. Silently decide whose task is whose. Deliver a satisfactory product. If I am pleased, you pass. Get to it."

Takumi stared at the recette card, and then at Ikumi. He could tell from the dawning horror in her expression that they'd both come to the same conclusion at the same time.

The task isn't how well we can cook. It's how I convince her to listen to me.


Takumi and Erina's dishes are the exact same as in canon; I based the details of the insalata frittata on the officially released recipe. Century egg is Chinese and refers to an egg that has been preserved in a clay mixture for anywhere from a few weeks to a few months, turning it dark from fermentation. Momo's pastry egg is basically just a custard bun with flaky layers rather than just bread. I didn't think too hard about what Shun might have made for this, but eggs can be smoked so there's probably some of that. I couldn't find a place to slide it in, but I imagine that Ikumi made an omurice with flavors inspired by American steak and eggs.

I didn't expect Ikumi to turn into a pseudo-Alice figure in the narrative of this story, but she's sort of turning into that without the Don RS to ground her. It's been fun to see her develop.

Kojirō's task has been changed slightly in the canon split; I imagine that in this AU, Sōma and Megumi still had their Shokugeki with him in their first year. In the two intervening years, he's refined what particular aspect of cooking he wants students to present. It also gives me the chance to steal from the much later Hokkaido arc in canon and use those concepts, since they're most likely not going to show up at the parallel time in this story.